


Turbulence

by Dooiney_Oie



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon compliant up until we find out WHAT THE HELL PETER SAID AFTER THE END OF MAN IN GLASS, Hello penumbra fandom I am here to deliver some Gay Yearning, Other, Rita! But just for a second, Set before man in glass and then after tools of rust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22844860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dooiney_Oie/pseuds/Dooiney_Oie
Summary: A study in riding out the bumps in the road, or: Juno Steel absolutely does not like flying.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 13
Kudos: 134





	Turbulence

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! This is my first penumbra fic!! I love the junoverse so gd much!! 
> 
> Quick notes:  
> \- I've referred to juno as a man here solely because that's how peter's narration in man in glass addresses him and this is from his pov, he's still very much nb and also a very special lady  
> \- For those maybe subbed to me & waiting on a conclusion to my taz fic: I'm working on it! Turns out wrapping up a 2 year long and 250k+ fic is..... hard :/
> 
> Anyway enjoy!!

Initially, Peter only notices it because of the gap in the stream of awkward, meandering attempts at conversation Juno keeps trying to make at him. There is, of course, nothing to talk about - not now, and perhaps not ever. The past is the past, after all.

The gap, in any case, is during takeoff. Peter had deliberately sat himself a respectable distance away, but given that the ex-detective seemed determined to follow him around like a lost kitten he hadn't expected that to make much of a difference. When it did, he simply counted it as a blessing. At least until the hiss of Rita's indoor voice - which, it seems, operates at exactly the same volume as her outdoor voice - draws his attention over in their direction.

"Mistah Steel?" she's stage-whispering across the armrest between them. "You okay, boss?"

"Not your boss anymore, Rita," Juno mutters, notably avoiding an answer. He is looking rather grey in the face, Peter supposes. Come to think of it, he'd looked very similar on the transport shuttle up to the Kanagawa mansion all those months ago. 

It doesn't take a detective to add two and two and come out with four, even without watching someone's knuckles whiten around their armrests with the ship's every bump or shudder. Juno Steel does not like flying. Seems rather terrified of it, in fact.

( _Maybe that was why he left_ , a small, naïve voice inside Peter's head supplies, infuriating in its hopefulness, its need to find a reason. _Too scared to fly, of course that was all. Nothing to do with you._ )

He silences the voice and files the information neatly away, if only as a liability that can later be accounted for if needed. Detective Steel's assorted fears and phobias are his own problem.

* * *

It's a little time before they're in a similar situation again, most takeoffs after that being adrenaline-fueled, rushed affairs where their main focus is simply getting away or tending to the injured among them. Really, it's a good thing that Buddy doesn't care for flawless crime, or else the entire crew would likely be out of a job.

This is roughly what Peter is thinking about when he catches sight of his once-enemy, once-lover, once-ex, now something new that neither of them are daring to define, anxiously double- and triple-checking the clasps on his seat's safety belts as the ship's engines start to power up around them. He, Jet and Rita are the only ones who actually bother with the harnesses - it's not like they'll make much difference in an emergency anyway. But, Peter supposes, to a nervous flier any comfort is probably worth seeking.

There is a file somewhere in his mind that details what it felt like to be a jittery seventeen-year-old on his first interplanetary flight, feeling the only home he'd ever known recede into the void of space forever and biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from jumping at every unexpected noise. It's an old entry, long-since updated with thousands more journeys and various related schematics and lists of procedures that have rendered the experience truly mundane, but it does still exist. 

So, after a moment's pause he crosses the room to settle himself quietly on Juno's blind side, with a small clearing of the throat to make his presence clear. Whether or not Juno hears it over the roar and scream of the engines kicking into high gear and his own careful deep breaths is less clear, but Peter supposes there are worse things he could do right now than surprise him a little.

"Primary thrusters," he murmurs, just loud enough for only the two of them to hear. "Just to get us off the ground."

Juno's head turns slightly towards him - not enough to see him, but enough that Peter knows he's listening. The next noise comes not long after, a loud _whirr-thunk_ that Juno jumps at visibly, only to turn his face further away in embarrassment immediately after. Peter stretches out in his seat and crosses his legs, lounging.

"That was the landing gear being stowed. Next the secondary thrusters will fire, taking us through the higher atmosphere and into orbit. And after that..."

He keeps talking through the whole process, explaining away every sight and sound and shudder - turbulence from the thinning air, the flash of heat around the hull from exiting the atmosphere, the tractor shields kicking in to clear the way through the planet's shrouding fog of debris, the creaking of the ship as they settle into orbit followed by fresh g-forces as they slingshot away and into open space. At some point, his own hand has found its way onto the armrest next to Juno's - not really touching, only the barest brush of skin between their pinky fingers, until Juno moves his hand so that one is sitting over the other. It couldn't be called hand-holding, just one finger resting lightly on top of a second, but after so long and with so much still between them, it feels like the world contained in a bare few millimeters.

Once they've settled into a cruise and after a few minutes' deep breathing, Juno finally untangles himself from the harnesses and makes his way over to the window, his right hand floating slightly ahead of him to find and skim obstacles as he moves. It's a new habit, picked up somewhere along the way in the months they've been apart, and Peter can't help but cast his mind wondering about all the other changes he's missed in that time, and what exactly they might be. He knows, at least, that there have been a lot of them.

After a moment, Peter rises to follow him, still keeping to his blind side and announcing himself with unsoftened footsteps and a light touch to the elbow that lasts not even half a second. Somehow this is easier, not having to look each other in the eye and acknowledge what they're both thinking about. Juno's eye is always terribly distracting, anyway, far too beautiful not to pull a few stray thoughts out of their trajectories and into its orbit instead.

"It is breathtaking, isn't it?" Peter comments as they look out into the star-filled darkness, no real intent behind the question but wanting to say something to lift the silence. Everyone else has long since left the room, entrusting the ship to its autopilot, and the air inside is charged in the way it always gets when the two of them are left with no distraction from all the things that are strung between them. Juno seems to feel it too, nodding quickly and, Peter thinks, somewhat gratefully.

"Yeah." He clears his throat, shifting awkwardly on his feet as his head tilts towards the floor. "And it, uh, doesn't feel so high once there's no ground to hit on the way down."

"No 'down' at all, in fact," Peter points out mildly as he files that information away, too - this time into the newly-unlocked cabinet in his system dedicated to Juno and only Juno. It's disappointingly empty thus far, and he's hoping for it to fill up sooner rather than later.

"Yeah."

The quiet stretches for a moment, not so charged as before but still enough to threaten sparks. Juno takes a breath and shuffles closer, enough for their hands to brush back to back. Still not holding, but touching distinctly and deliberately enough. "Thanks."

Peter smiles, mostly to himself. He takes ahold of Juno's broad, rough, beautiful fingers and squeezes just the once before letting them go and moving to walk away. 

"Any time," he says, consciously swallowing back the assorted terms of endearment he instinctively makes to tack onto the end. They're not quite there yet.

"Hey - wait."

And Peter does, already completely captured by the hand on his one cheek as Juno pushes himself up on his toes to kiss the other.

It's quick, cautious, gentle - and so vastly unlike the prickly detective who would shove Peter's hands roughly away the moment he dared to offer the smallest suggestion of comfort. Peter had been a fool for that man, even despite the barbs and sharp edges he'd wrapped himself in, but... he has to admit this is a decidedly pleasant change.

"Really," Juno mumbles as he steps back, awkwardly fussing with his eyepatch. Probably an attempt to hide that darling blush flaring under his cheeks, Peter thinks. "Thanks."

He's already fleeing the room by the time Peter has found the presence of mind to reply, embarrassment clear in the hunch of his shoulders and his rapid, panicky footsteps.

Peter lifts his hand to brush over his cheek, his face warming outwards from every point of brief contact. Had those lips been so soft and unchapped before, or is that something new for him to file away, too?

"No, dear," he calls quietly towards the empty doorway. "Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed it ❤


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